


Blossoming

by AvisPraeda



Category: Kingdom Hearts (Video Games)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Language of Flowers, M/M, Post-Kingdom Hearts Dream Drop Distance, Post-Kingdom Hearts III
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:16:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26887987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvisPraeda/pseuds/AvisPraeda
Summary: Ienzo struggles to control his illusions, but it doesn't always manifest negatively.
Relationships: Aeleus/Ienzo (Kingdom Hearts)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 15





	Blossoming

**Author's Note:**

> This was a caffeine high fueled attempt at punching through pandemic-induced writer's block. I actually had notes for this concept on my phone for about a year, but then it died and I lost it all haha.

Among them all, Ienzo was the only one that lacked control over his Nobody powers. Sure, Dilan and Aeleus both fumbled with their wind and earth respectively, an overpowered wind blast scattering a room’s worth of dust everywhere or the ground creaking in warning beneath Aeleus’s feet when incensed, but for the most part they could still use their powers at will. Ienzo could not, and not for their lack of prescience in the slightest.

An unfortunate consequence of Zexion’s death, something stripped away when absorbed by the replica. They had initially thought he was devoid of magic entirely until the nightmares began.

Walls melting, morphing, sapped of colour and existing as a blank white slate. Rooms cast entirely in shadow, absorbing all light that tried to pierce it. Something moving, lurking in the corners just out of sight, gone before it could be directly perceived. Leftovers from whatever horrors the poor scientist's mind subjected him to during the night.

Things didn’t get much better with the return of Ansem and Even; if anything, the rogue illusions manifested more frequently in other ways separate from the nightmares. The group quickly deduced them as being linked directly to his emotional state, though it didn’t provide much clarity in how to solve such an issue. Lights fizzled out during arguments with Even. Slow, heavy footsteps heard approaching Ienzo from behind despite nobody being there, locking his muscles into place in anticipation and fear. Voices whispering, each sounding familiar yet different between whoever heard them, unable to pinpoint for certainty who they once belonged to. The toll it took on Ienzo’s mental state worried everyone dearly.

It wasn’t all bad, though. After all, Ienzo could feel more than just negativity.

Illusions also came in the form of a vivid warmth filling the normally chilled basement labs whenever an exciting breakthrough occurred, that carried with him through the halls when he darted off to Ansem’s old study, or to the front gates to share his findings with someone in-person rather than a tiny phone screen. In the mornings, or rarely the late evenings, a calming scent filled whichever room he chose to occupy while enjoying his tea and watching the bustle outside the window, no lit candle to be found. Often vanilla, sometimes lavender. The sound of rain pattering against the windows of the library as Ienzo sprawled out along an old couch to read a novel, despite it being sunny and dry as a bone beyond the glass, utterly relaxed in a way rarely seen from him since recompletion. Sounds in particular were popular, apparently, as everyone would gradually gather in the same room to pursue work or a hobby while listening to whatever atmospheric white noise was happening. Where the darkness caused concern, such positive sensations brought with them hope and confidence that Ienzo could overcome his pain and flourish.

In truth Ienzo found it terribly embarrassing, but not as much as his inner demons manifesting for all to experience. As such, he put less effort into wrangling in the more harmless illusions. The levity helped everyone, not just him.

To Aeleus though, nothing could compare to when they first became a “thing.” Mutual feelings shared, discussed, confirmed that this was something they both wanted. When Aeleus saw red hearts physically wafting from Ienzo after their first proper kiss, his own heart nearly barged out to join them. In the time since, those positive little quirks became far more common, especially when they shared space together. Aeleus loved each and every one.

Morning came quickly, still dark before sunrise, and Aeleus forced himself to roll out of bed and prepare for guard duty. Shower and dress, distantly wondering if the kitchen had any clean mugs. He had just pulled his gloves on when his door creaked open an inch wider than he left it, and Ienzo’s head poked in. It wasn’t exactly unusual for Ienzo to seek out Aeleus at such an hour, nightmares plagued them all and oftentimes warranted another person to ground them to reality. But there was nothing haunting those blue eyes this time, only a sheepishness that betrayed the calm way he presented himself.

“May I come in? I realize it’s quite early...”

“Of course,” no need to ask.

Ienzo arrived properly dressed for the day, ascot already tied neatly around his neck, and his lab coat draped over one arm, which he discarded upon entry. He plopped down on the side of Aeleus’s bed, watching patiently until Aeleus got the hint and joined him.

“There’s a crack in my windowsill that prevents the window from shutting all the way. I’m thinking of moving to another room temporarily until that gets fixed,” Ienzo started, and Aeleus felt fingers brush against his glove. A familiar anxiety sprang into his throat then, hand staying stock still as Ienzo’s palm gradually covered it, until he remembered that he was allowed to do this now. _They_ were allowed to. No more coy dancing around their feelings and desires with each other. It was still sinking in that they were properly, officially together, they could seek out attention from the other freely, if they so wished. If that was what Ienzo wanted from his early visit, Aeleus would happily reciprocate.

Hands rested overtop each other, first on the bed, then moving to Aeleus’s lap, save for when Ienzo pulled one away to gesture vaguely while he spoke--which happened frequently. Normally this was already beyond what they were used to for expressing direct affection, but empowered by the privacy of Aeleus’s room and the darkness in the wee hours of the morning, they both wanted more. Ienzo took initiative, pressing right against Aeleus’s side, prompting him to sling an arm around his back to hold him, before gradually sliding more and more onto Aeleus until he’d claimed a seat right on his lap. Were it not for Ienzo’s confidence, feigned as it may have been, Aeleus’s face would’ve surely flushed beyond the pink warming his cheeks.

All Aeleus wanted to do was hold Ienzo, pull him flush and just cherish the moment, and luckily the sentiment seemed mutual. Ienzo’s hands settled around the small of Aeleus’s back, while Aeleus let his hands run up Ienzo’s spine, palms brushing the trace bumps through his sweater until one stopped across his shoulder blades and the other slightly below. His chin sat atop Ienzo’s head, then he shifted to rest his cheek there instead, nuzzling into the soft silver-blue hair. 

They stayed like that, perfectly content to bask in the closeness, chatting softly about sleep and repairs and plans for the courtyard, until sunlight shone in through the window and crept part way up Aeleus’s legs. He had to clench his jaw to force back a yawn. Ienzo’s body tucked to his was warm enough on its own, and now with the sunlight he was beginning to grow outright drowsy--and the lack of a morning coffee wasn’t helping in that avenue.

Aeleus’s eyes had slipped shut without him being fully aware of it, lulled by Ienzo’s voice, until his beloved headrest slipped out from against his cheek and he blinked them back open. While attempting to clear away his blurred vision his gaze happened to flick down, and that was when he first noticed it: flowers, small and white and scattered across his gloves, sprouting as they would from the earth. Even as he blinked, convinced it was merely a trick of his tired eyes, an illusion he could dispel, they remained, swaying as Ienzo shifted in his arms. Despite their washed out appearance, both flower and stem as white as the fabric grown from, the formation of the tiny, clustered petals made them easy to identify as clover flowers.

So bewildered by the sight, he missed Ienzo’s hands slipping away from their hug, and only drew back to attention when the palms splayed against his chest and applied some force. When Aeleus looked down at Ienzo’s face with only half a mind, the peaceful expression staring back up at him, lips curled in a way that betrayed an underlying amusement, made his heart swoop. His arms loosened to let Ienzo get the space he sought, hands moving to rest on his shoulders instead, and immediately he was struck with a pang of disappointment as the gloves now laid bare. Nothing more than an illusion, after all.

“I fear we may lose track of time if we aren’t careful,” Ienzo murmured after a beat, said with a tone that teetered between teasing and genuine concern. “Neither of us want unintentionally shirking work to be the way that everyone finds out.”

Aeleus nodded, embarrassment already creeping up along his spine at the mere thought of Even or, heavens forbid, Ansem showing up in search of them and witnessing a tender moment. As if in apology for instilling the idea, Ienzo reached up to brush the crook of Aeleus’s neck, tugging him down to place a chastise kiss and a mumbled promise to block out some time just for them against his jawline, which Aeleus leaned in eagerly to accept.

But as they separated, and he watched Ienzo snatch the lab coat from where it sat haphazardly draped over the back of a chair on his way out the door, his mind drifted back to the clovers.

***

Affection remained sparse. At most it came as a hand brushing Ienzo’s shoulder or Aeleus’s bicep, an exchanged look that lingered a beat longer than necessary, a cup of fresh coffee or tea or water left on the bedside table; anything more was reserved only for what moments of privacy they could steal together between their busy schedules, tucked away behind shadowed corners or locked doors. Touches and gazes only allowed for each other.

It happened again in the library. Spur of the moment, really, a natural transition from Ienzo’s hands cupping Aeleus’s jaw, thumb running over the sharp bone of his cheeks, to dropping down over his shoulders, Ienzo’s head pillowing against Aeleus’s chest. Arms slid around Ienzo’s waist to comfortably hold him in place, loose with a hand over the opposing wrist, and there Aeleus breathed a content breath and let his head fall back against the bookshelf. His original intent to merely enjoy in the moment was interrupted by the memory of the clovers, and out of curiosity he took a peek.

Sure enough, flowers had spread across his gloves, but they certainly weren’t clovers this time. Now they were small clusters of blooms, bunched together on the stems in tiny domes. Initially they reminded him of miniaturized white cherry blossoms, but the flowers themselves, from what he could see of them, were far different, more compact. Try as he might, wracking his brain for matches, he couldn’t put a name to them. But they had the same permanence as the clovers, tilting and scrunching as real living plants would as he shifted his hand further up his wrist to brush a bundle of them--but not too hard. He didn’t wish to damage them.

“What’s on your mind?”

The question had Aeleus flinch, curling his fingers away like he was narrowly caught doing something he shouldn’t. Ienzo didn’t lift his head, temple still resting against Aeleus’s chest, but the silence that followed was just as prodding as any follow-up question would’ve been. Patient, waiting for an answer, aware that there was something distracting Aeleus.

He opened his mouth to respond. A beat, two of staring at the flowers on his gloves, and in his mind’s eye he could picture them folding back up, retracting, vanishing into the white. “It’s nothing,” he said, “a passing thought.”

Ienzo huffed, but didn’t press it. And the flowers remained.

It would’ve been the simplest thing in the world to remain there, tucked together all day, but Even would not have been pleased to be ditched mid-project. Eventually they figured that breaking apart on their own terms was better than having a shrill call interrupt the mood, and proceeded to gather up the supplies they originally came there to find.

“Thank you for your help. I can handle the rest from here,” Ienzo said as he hoisted a small box into his arms, casting a lingering smile before he turned and took his time strolling to the exit.

Now, Aeleus remained alone in the library, though here it was a good thing. Perhaps, he thought as he scanned the shelves idly, perhaps he could seek out some books…

***

As the phenomenon continued, Aeleus managed to pin down the requirements for the flowers to appear, despite the continued rarity of their more affectionate moments. Always in private, always when held, didn’t have to be a full hug as an arm across Ienzo’s shoulders or around his waist would cause the effect on only that glove. He started paying attention with the gloves off, now that he knew what to look for, and found that they never touched his bare skin, instead taking to his sleeves. But the illusions still had a realism to them when he brushed the backs of his fingers against the petals, the stems, as any living flower would--that is, when they wouldn’t disappear into smoke at the touch instead, reforming as soon as the obstruction was removed.

Still, their duties hindered his pursuit of knowledge. In an ironic twist, gardening mostly occupied the guards in the following weeks, checking up on their new additions, tearing out whatever plants had died and marking repeat problem areas where the soil should be replaced at a later date.

“Were I superstitious, I’d consider this a bad omen,” Dilan commented, the grim tone prompting Aeleus to look over and lean on the shovel he jammed firmly under a shriveled shrub. Shears at the ready, Dilan stood before a sorry looking rose bush, one hand buried in the thorny stems to single out a piece that needed to be trimmed. At first the bush grew fine, but now much of it had begun to wither as some yet-unidentified disease set in, to the point where it was questionable whether there would be any chance at saving it from rot. Aeleus would’ve simply called it a lost cause and uprooted it, but Dilan continued to work at it stubbornly.

Three weeks in, and no dice. Dilan tsk’d through his grimace. “Ansem claims that these are meant to celebrate our return. Well, what does it signify about our chances of success rebuilding what we destroyed, when something meant to say ‘welcome back’ dies persistently?” He glowered down at the browning yellow rose in his palm before snipping it away and tossing it with the rest of the rubbish.

Flowers having a meaning. Aeleus cut his eyes back to the rose where it had landed on a pile of snapped branches. He’d heard Dilan talk about flower language before, usually in the middle of some drunk or frustrated rant. Back then it meant little beyond some neat tidbit of information. This time it gave Aeleus pause. 

Many of Ienzo’s uncontrolled side-effects were brushed off as coincidental; nobody thought that the pine scent was anything more than a pleasant addition, that the distant sound of birds was simply ambiance. The flowers had naturally fallen into such a category as well for Aeleus. Honeysuckles appeared just on the virtue of being honeysuckles, nothing more. The idea that the kind of flower had a deeper meaning to them added another layer of complexity to the mixture, just as he was beginning to form an understanding of the illusions. In a way, Aeleus liked that.

From there he sought out multiple sources to brush up on the flowers themselves, thumbing through one book in search of a picture that matched a flower he struggled to identify, and another book to seek out a potential meaning. It wasn’t always a different kind each time, repeats occurred, but the flowers themselves were all the same, never mixed with another variation. All clovers, all jasmines, all forget-me-nots, taking on the same tint of the fabric they spread over. Marjoram was the name he found almost two hundred pages in, the small clusters in his memory of the library matching the white, pink, purple examples in the picture. “Joy,” they meant. “Happiness.”

Aeleus leaned back in his seat as realization settled over him; in that moment, tucked in each other’s arms against the bookshelf, Ienzo was happy to exist there. Warmth blossomed in his chest, unfurling much like the petals on his gloves the last time they had touched.

***

With time Ienzo’s proficiency over his illusions returned, and the unwanted effects gradually vanished. Fewer shadows creeping along the walls as he slinked, downtrodden, through the corridors, fewer lights flickering when his frustration mounted, and, unfortunately, fewer soothing scents or atmospheric noises while he was at peace. While he was overjoyed for Ienzo’s progress and recovery, Aeleus couldn’t help but worry that the flowers he had grown so attached to would eventually fade with the rest. Selfishly, he wished to take more time away from their schedules to hold Ienzo, to read the field that painted itself across his clothes and see plain as day that, beyond a shadow of a doubt, his love for Ienzo was reciprocated while he still had the opportunity.

He stole such a moment during a warm afternoon out in the gardens, after months of progress. Just a walk to get some fresh air, admire all of Aeleus and Dilan’s hard work paying off in the form of vibrant hedges and soon to be blooming buds. A far cry from the rot and decay that awaited them initially.

Ienzo stopped abruptly in front of a row of fruit tree saplings, reached out to touch the end of a low branch for inspection, and Aeleus took the chance to wrap his arms around Ienzo’s waist in a familiar, lazy hold. Naturally, Ienzo hummed and sank comfortably into it like a routine, digging his heel into the grass to press close and stand back-to-chest.

“It’s a shame we won’t get to try any fruit this year,” Ienzo commented idly, and it was Aeleus’s turn to hum in response. Then his gaze shifted to his gloves. He was prepared for the disappointment of finding a barren, white plain, a sign that his venture had come to an end; instead, and with a poorly restrained breath of surprise, he was met with vivid purple flowers actively spreading down towards his fingers, green leaves filling in the unoccupied patches. Slowly, tentatively, he lifted a hand to touch, transfixed in watching the delicate heliotropes bend under the fingertip and waft gently in the afternoon breeze. 

Suddenly he felt Ienzo laugh against his chest, shoulders shaking and ruffling against the guard uniform, almost startling him out of the trance. Ienzo’s own hands reached up, one grazing against Aeleus’s palm while the other curled around the underside of his wrist to cradle it, nudging stems and leaves out of the way to squish as little as possible. “They’re beautiful, aren’t they? Came out better than I had hoped.”

Aeleus’s mind spun. “You...knew about them? That this was happening?” In the corner of his vision, he caught the way Ienzo’s visible ear dusted pink.

“I only found out recently, thanks to you.” Hesitant, shy almost, Ienzo paused, then took a breath to continue, “It was embarrassing at first, but you seemed to enjoy them. So I kept it up on purpose. They, ah...each had their own meaning.”

“I know.” The words tumbled out. “I was curious and researched.”

“Good,” abrupt, and Aeleus could practically hear the smile in his voice, “then you understood.”

“I did.”

For him. At some point, Ienzo had started making the flowers _for him_ , to tell him on purpose, without words, how he felt. Aeleus buried his face into Ienzo’s hair. It was almost too much, his cheeks and ears burned without help from the sun, and his poor heart was already on its way to beating right out of his ribcage. Ienzo surely noticed. Gradually, he felt Ienzo thread their fingers together, and heard the flowers rustling as he did. When he squeezed, Aeleus squeezed back.

“I’ll take that as a sign that I should continue?” Ienzo asked, so softly that his words were almost carried away by the wind.

“Please do.”

**Author's Note:**

> Just for reference, since I didn't list all of em:  
> Clover flowers: “Think of me”  
> Jasmine, white (like Aeleus's gloves :3c): “Love”  
> Forget-me-nots: Self-explanatory  
> Marjoram (usually pinkish/magenta, but can be white): “Joy and happiness”  
> Heliotropes: "Eternal love"  
> Yellow Roses: "Friendship, Welcome back"  
> Honeysuckle: "Devotion, affection, lover's embrace"


End file.
